


Young and scorned

by KINGREGGIE



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Brief mentions of suicide, Brinley dies often, Dark Humor, Dark Thoughts, David is a Good Uncle, Depression, Jake is a good brother, Nea comes around eventually, OC is written inconsistently because she's inconsistent, Other, Possessive Behavior, Self-Isolation, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, This child cannot catch a break, Touch-Starved, alot of them - Freeform, as a treat, but also some fluff?, child get away from him he will kill you, creepy killer man hugs child, mental abuse/manipulation, mental breakdowns, oh and bullying, slight grooming?, this will be fun, trigger warnings basically, very violent, why does every killer use petnames, yeah - Freeform, yeah alot of petnames
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24561652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KINGREGGIE/pseuds/KINGREGGIE
Summary: Oh to be naive again. Who knew the Entity would take such a young face? Barely fifteen, Brinley really just wanted a nap. No friends, skating by on c's and caffeine. She was a mess, and no one knew it. Her parents insist summer is a time for fun, go hang out, make friends and mistakes! We'll be here with you, you'll be alright. Maybe Brin should have just left as soon as she saw them. Bullies of course, who else would it be? Into the forest we go, nothing too bad. Until she blinks, seeing nothing but black fog.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	1. Something isn't right.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain begins now

_Why did you have to listen to them? Why couldn't you just go to the park, the park is so much better?_

Brinley chastised herself, though not in anger. The thought was right, she could have gone to the park instead. She never took her parents' suggestions, so what made her take it now? Parties were never fun, Brinley knew that without needing to go to them. They were loud, crowded. Oh, and how could Brin forget? The people there didn't want her there. Especially a trio of sophomores that will remain unnamed. They were bullies to say the least, and they always had a bone to pick with Brinley. Why? She had no clue. 

The air was surprisingly bitter for the beginning of summer. Summer was the worst, because come summer, parties. Who threw them? Popular kids, like Gracie Woodlock. Her house was the biggest in the neighborhood. What made it even better were the woods behind Gracie's house. Brinley was chased into the forest by the nameless assholes. She wondered what time it was, noticing that the trees cast disorienting shadows on the ground. God, now she _really_ wished she'd gone to the park. Tonight had to be a full moon, if shadows like this were there. 

No time for regrets, just focus on running.

That was the one thing Brinley was good at, running and hiding. She'd be lying if she said she didn't take any pride in that. Not much pride, but it felt nice to watch those dumbass jocks eat her dust. After all, it was the only way she was able to get back at them. They towered over her, standing tall at six feet or taller. Brinley on the other hand was a measly five foot, one inch tall. She had a joke that god gave her that extra inch, as a treat. 

Brinley gradually slowed down when she noticed the music from the party had faded into the distance. She turned to face where she came from, analyzing every movement. No taunts echoed off the trees, no footsteps crunched the leaves. She'd gotten away again. A flutter of glee tinged in her heart, damn right she got away again.

Running wasn't cowardice, was it? No, she didn't think so. Not now at least. Brinley wouldn't prove a point by letting them kick her ass for the hundredth time in a row. 

A small smile formed on Brinley's face, feeling like she could finally take a breath. She leaned on a tree with a sigh, grateful that runner's high always kicked in so fast. She knew she'd be beat by the time she got home, so she couldn't rest here for too long. Brin could just take the longer way, enjoy the night on her own for a nice walk. As long as she kept the distant music in earshot until she got out of the forest, she'd be fine. 

Ignoring the time crunch, Brinley closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself relax so that she could properly enjoy the walk home. Upon opening; however, fog. Dark, black fog. The darkest fog she'd ever seen. How the hell could fog be pitch black? The lines of moonlight that broke through the trees struggled to touch the mist that hung heavy on the ground. This was very weird. Shouldn't she have noticed the fog rolling in?

_Something isn't right._

Brinley looked around with a perplexed frown, her chest grew tense when she tried to listen out for the music. It wasn't there anymore, In fact, nothing was. No cars, no bugs, no wind. Nothing. The only thing Brin could hear was her own breathing, and the drums of a subtle heartbeat, throbbing in her ears.

She struggled to find her bearings, as she couldn't tell which direction she was facing anymore. Her memory had become fuzzy as well, what was she doing? Where was she going?

_Home. I'm going home. I was at a party, and... Now I'm going home._

Her thoughts were so _loud_. Why were they so loud? Nothing made sense anymore. Brinley grumbled a bit, hoping that she'd end up somewhere if she just kept walking. Choose a direction and walk. Easy.

Brinley took a step, then another, the sound of wind howling was a bit jarring. There was no wind, so why the howl? It was hoarse, gritty and almost pained. The heartbeat in Brin's ears got louder, making the next step much more reluctant. 

The howl became deafening, the fog rose like water, engulfing everything it touched. Brinley's heart dropped into her stomach. She felt like she couldn't breathe, the fog felt much more like smoke. It hurt to inhale, ripping rough coughs from Brinley's lungs. She felt like she was dying, suffocating. It took only three seconds of this for her vision to fade, but it wasn't at all different from what she saw. 

Brinley blacked out after those three seconds, and when she opened them, she saw a small, blue barrel with a warm fire burning loudly in front of her. Across from the barrel fire? A jagged meat hook.

Fear. The only thing Brinley felt was fear. Paralyzing terror. She was also confused, how did she get there? Where even was she? The fire made it hard to think. She wanted to get away from the hook, but her legs simply wouldn't respond. She knew she had to move, it was almost instinct. 

Break through, move. The ice around Brinley's brain shattered, allowing her to lower herself and trot unsteadily away from the loud fire and hook. What was this place? She wished something would give her a sign.

Her eyes landed on something, words. She focused on the words, they were hung on a large, metal structure.

_**MacMillan Estate.** _

Oh, hey. A sign. How ironic. Brinley would have laughed if she wasn't so scared. Drawing her gaze back down to look ahead, she saw a yellow machine. Upon closer inspection, once she got closer, it was a generator. A thin metal pole stuck up, holding three spotlights above her head.

What the hell was this random generator doing here? And why was it wedged in a corner? The walls that hid the generator were old, made of dark red brick. 

_**Thunk, chime.** _

What the hell? Brinley's eyes darted up, a dark spot invaded her vision, a hazy silhouette was in the middle of the spot. It quickly shrunk out of sight. With the black spot, came a sliver of relief. It was fleeting, though. Brinley had a feeling she shouldn't stay in one place for long, and she had no clue what to do with the generator. Time to move on, maybe hide where she could.

Finding another stray brick wall, Brinley hunkered down against it. An agonized yelp could be heard in the distance, it sounded male, and very pained. Brin wanted to vomit, but there was nothing in her stomach to throw up. Suddenly, a man ran across the open area in front of Brinley. He was clutching his side, limping frantically away from something.

That something followed close behind the man. Clad in all black, the figure also looked male. His face was covered by a dirty white mask, it vaguely resembled a ghost. He had a knife in his hand, it was slick with blood. Even from this far away, Brin could tell the blood on the blade was fresh, and it probably belonged to the other guy she'd just seen.

The murderous figure- the killer - stopped dead in his tracks just before the man could slam down a wooden pallet. It gave him time, so he booked it away. The killer seemed annoyed by this, turning around to focus his attention elsewhere. The mask was now facing Brinley directly. 

She couldn't think. She felt like a loaded gun, but no one was there to pull the trigger and let her fly away. She was in shadows, and her dark black and purple shirt should be good camouflage for the shadows, right? God she hoped so.

There couldn't possibly be a word for the feeling that overcame her when the killer started in her direction. Terror didn't even come close. To say that Brinley wanted to implode wouldn't be inaccurate. She lowered herself down into the unkempt grass even more, practically hugging the ground.

Something began flapping and cawing overhead. A crow. It circled above her head. It was loud. So, painfully _loud_.

A single slip, a muted cry of raw fear escaped Brinley's lips. The killer now was trotting closer, the heartbeat from before was pounding Brin's skull. Everything was screaming at her to run, but she was crippled. The fear was oppressive, it held her down and in place. She could hear the footsteps now, the killer's shadow crept up to cover her in even more darkness. Brinley couldn't rip her eyes away from the mask, tears welled up when she understood just how close he was. Her mind had gone to static, yet questions still swirled. Why her? Why was she here? Where was she? What was going on? Will she die?

The killer tilted his head, "What's wrong, bitty?" He asked, his voice muffled a tad. Did he just speak? Brinley was sure she heard something come from him. She couldn't answer, she couldn't do anything. The killer crouched down in front of her, "You're shakin' pretty bad. Did something scare you?" Why was he asking questions?

Brinley became self-aware, making her feel the violent shiver that wracked her body. She didn't notice the shivering until he mentioned it. This made her fear worse, which Brin didn't think was possible. The killer's presence was crippling, she wanted to scream at him, to punch and kick at him to go away. Please, just leave her alone. Go kill someone else.

Brinley didn't want to die, she had plans. She had places she wanted to see, she wanted to live alone, in a small apartment with a cat. She had planned a whole aesthetic for her apartment. She knew which cat she wanted. She wanted to go shopping by herself, to make a best friend one day. A ride or die duo, the party animal and introvert, taking on the world together.

Thinking of the future was one of the few things that gave Brinley hope, she desperately clung to it now. How long had he been staring down at her? Brin sniffled, her face felt wet. She'd started crying. God, _fuck_. Why did she forget to keep herself from crying?

She hated that she could only think in questions.

The killer gave a pitiful _'aww'_ and reached down to pat Brinley's head, "C'mon now. Don't cry. It's ok to be scared." He hushed her, tone eerily soft. Why was he trying to comfort her? He had a knife in his other hand, "I think I'll cut you some slack." He snickered, as if he'd made a joke. The worst part of the joke was that Brinley understood it.

The killer took the collar of Brinley's shirt and yanked her up, "Aw, was that too rough?" He asked, noticing the fearful grunt from Brin. He rose to his feet, dragging Brinley up with him. He, of course, towered over her. He had to be at least six feet tall, because he was still looking down at her. He chuckled deep in his chest, "That's new. Aw, oh my gosh. Aren't you adorable?" He remarked gleefully, pushing Brin out to see her better. Self-loathing intertwined with the horror, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

He shifted the knife in his hand, "What's your name, sweetheart?" The petname sent uncomfortable shivers down Brinley's spine. She swallowed the lump in her throat, "B- Brinley..." Was the barely audible answer she gave him. The killer cooed again, patting Brin's head. The knife was now much too close for any sort of comfort. She winced, flinching away from his touch. She hated him, she wanted to fight, though still couldn't. What the hell would she do, anyway? She was on the tips of her toes because of how he was holding her up, she was a bug under his heel.

"I almost don't want to hurt you, you're so tiny. I've only met one other person this small, you know that? Twenty-eight years old, and you're the second little girl I've run into." He remarked, lowering Brinley down so she could stand flat footed. He still held firmly onto her shirt, though. There was no chance he'd let go, "Almost. Because you, bitty, look so fun to hurt."

Brinley's tears started back up again, she had to do something, "No! Get off me you asshole! Go away!" She blurted, voice trembling so much she was barely comprehensible. She thrashed, throwing her fists into his chest. When that didn't work, she grabbed onto the hand that held her, feebly trying to wrench him off. 

The killer just laughed at her, "Looks like the kitten is all riled up, hmm? You're too cute for words." His tone was fond and sadistic at the same time. He swiftly slashed at Brinley's face, the knife left a deep cut along her cheek. At first the wound only felt warm- then searing, brutal pain felt like a punch in the face. Brin screamed so harshly her throat went raw. This was the worst pain she'd ever felt, it hurt so bad she suddenly wished she was dead. It was throbbing, constant agony. Her left eye was squeezed shut because of the pain. Blood quickly flowed down her face. 

She had to hang onto his wrist just to keep herself from crumbling to the ground. The killer hummed, "It'll be over soon." He said, the changes in his tone gave Brinley whiplash. He sounded dead cold, grim, evil. He raised her up, just to slam her down into the dirt. He was quick to pin her down, one hand holding her face to keep her head still, the other raised the knife up over his head. He made sure to keep her right eye uncovered, as her eye was the target.

Time slowed down, the heartbeat had become a pounding migraine, but that might be the cut on her face. Brinley closed her eyes, hoping that she could wish herself back to the party. She'd welcome the jocks with open arms any day over this. This was hell.

The knife effortlessly plunged into Brin's eye socket. There was only one word to describe her existence now. Agony. The purest form of Agony. White hot suffering. Brinley shrieked, digging her nails into the killer's sleeve. She kicked her legs down on the ground. God, _fuck_. This hurt so bad. It was indescribable. All thought was erased when he twisted the knife deeper into her eye. Make it stop, please god just make this stop. This was too much. The pain reached her soul, tearing it to pieces. The bitter taste in Brin's mouth was warm blood. 

The sensation sent another shock to the system, making her gag and choke and sob. The killer didn't say anything to comment on her suffering. He only rolled the knife into his other hand after removing it from her face. Brin couldn't close her right eyelid, mainly because it was just mush.

He grabbed Brin's jaw this time, holding her head in place. Raising the knife above his head again, he didn't waste any time doing the same to her left eye as he did the right. Brinley's vision cut out like a TV, adding panic to her pain. It wasn't like she was calm before, the anxiety was simply worse. She couldn't scream anymore, so she just clawed weakly at the killer's arm. 

"The other survivors call me Ghostface, but you can call me Jed, sweetheart." He whispered in her ear, making her panic worse.

Brinley felt the blade violently drag across her throat. She couldn't breathe, blood bubbled up into her mouth, soon overflowing and coating the rest of her face in red. Despite all of this, Brin still clung to life. Didn't she want to die?

Everything stopped when the killer punched her in the face.

No more pain, no more struggling for air. 

Brinley was dead.


	2. Take a breath, kiddo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, some angst and Nea is mean.

Ringing in her ear.

Muffled voices, becoming clearer. Someone was shaking her. Wake up, c'mon. It's time to wake up.

"Hey! Hey, kid, you alright?" A female voice, warm and worried. 

"Jesus, she really is a kid, how did she die again?" Male, on the younger side, he sounded pretty shocked.

"Mori. Ghostface." British man, blunt and dull. 

_Ghostface_... Wait- 

Brinley shot upright with a harsh gasp, her eyes snapped open. She couldn't focus for a second, mostly because her eyes burned. Ow, they really burned, this migraine was skull-splitting. She groaned in pain, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing them as if to get the salt out. She'd been crying, maybe that's why they burned. 

"Hey, we thought we lost you for a minute. You ok?" The female voice again.

Letting her hands drop from her face, Brin blinked to focus. Her head still hurt like a bitch, and she was so confused. Hadn't she just been killed? The girl didn't know anymore. The woman who'd been shaking her finally cleared, she was Blonde, and her expression was... A large mix of things, ranging from relieved to concerned, "Can you talk?" 

Oh, she hadn't responded yet, "Y- yeah. I can talk." Brinley quickly confirmed, wincing at the sharp throb that prodded her brain. Damn, this hurt, "What happened? I just... I was stabbed, how am I here?" 

The blonde woman leaned back, relieved she could communicate with Brin, "Slow down, kiddo. What's your name, and how old are you? I'm Kate, this is Steve, David, Meg and Claudette." Kate pointed to the people as she introduced them. Steve waved with a lopsided smile, David nodded with his arms crossed, Meg gave a warm smile and Claudette did the same. 

Brinley's eyes panned over the bunch for a moment, "I'm Brinley, I'm fifteen." She offered quietly. Dear god, she was a freshman in _highschool_. This was fucked up, but she wasn't thinking of that. Ghostface, her mind was stuck on Ghostface. The name was familiar, the memory came with a voice.

 _"The others call me Ghostface, but you can call me Jed, sweetheart_."

Oh god, she'd died. She'd been brutalized by Je- Ghostface. No, she's not gonna use his actual name. This realization sent shivers down Brin's spine, and apparently something else.

"Are you ok, Brinley?" Why did Kate sound so concerned.

Brin groaned, covering her face to discover it was slick with tears again. The shiver down her spine hadn't gone away, in fact, it was consistent. _Why am I crying? I'm fine, I'm alive. There's other people here, everything will be fine. But I died, someone killed me and it hurt. It hurt so bad, it still hurts._ Brinley didn't know anything anymore, "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm...."

Kate smiled sadly, "Don't worry about it, David saw what happened. Pretty intense for your first Trial, I'm sorry you had to go through that." At first Kate's words made Brinley feel better, but then something clicked. First Trial? What did she mean 'First Trial'?

_No, no there's no more dying. I died once, now I'm just stuck here. A nice campfire, nice people, no more dying. I'll be ok._

She desperately didn't want to think of death. She'd forced herself to throw away her plans, the joy that came with thinking of the future. Not to mention that death hurt, very bad. She couldn't shake the dooming idea that Trials happened more than once, "What do you mean 'first Trial'?" Brin had to ask, despite the fact she was still crying.

Meg stepped up to the plate - so to speak - and knelt down beside Brinley, "Sometimes, four of us are chosen to be taken into a Trial. The Trials happen somewhere else, and we're given a minute to prepare before we disappear from the camp. They happen mostly at night... Well, the equivalent of night here." The explanation didn't provide any consolation, "There's one objective in Trials, fix and activate five generators so we can open the gate and escape. It's unfortunately not that easy, though, because there's always a killer in a Trial with us who either tries to kill us or sacrifice us. That's what the hooks are for." Claudette chimed in, trying to add to the explanation as gently as she could. The group traded worried glances when Brinley remained silent for too long.

"W- when do Trials start?"

Kate shook her head slightly, "They're random. All we know is that only one Trial can happen at a time, and that they're more common at night."

"How am I alive?"

"We can't actually die. The people who die in Trials show up before the others that make it, they kinda just.... Materialize out of nothing." Steve answered mildly, though he seemed bewildered about all of this too.

Brinley felt her chest get tight, it became hard to breathe. So, she was doomed to die over and over and over again? That was worse, so much worse. The tears had stopped, leaving her eyes dry and burning. Her head still hurt. 

Meg sighed tiredly, putting a hand on Brin's shoulder, "Hey, it's ok. We'll teach you the ropes, no one's gonna leave you to the wolves, hun." The contact felt overwhelming, it sent bolts of _I'm being touched_ up to the kid's head, making her hurt even more. She flinched away, giving Meg a wary, wild eyed look.

The redheaded young woman retracted, simply sitting next to Brinley as a means to comfort her somehow. Kate rose slowly, giving the kid some space. Steve knelt down where he stood, "Take a breath, kiddo. You're safe with us." He urged her to calm down, sounding as soft as he could.

Brin closed her eyes, pressing two fingers to her temples. _Yeah, just breathe. Don't focus on death, deal with it later. Cry later, now I gotta get my bearings._ She opened her eyes, inhaling sharply, "I'm ok." She nodded at Steve, who smiled in response.

After a minute more of letting Brinley gather herself, Kate helped her to her feet. The area of the campfire was actually pretty big, but there _were_ twenty-one other people there. They all seemed to be doing their own things, so Kate had Brinley sit tight on a log while she rounded everyone up.

Oh god, she was rounding everyone up. But they were busy, just leave them be until they're done, Kate. Damn it, too late. Everyone was there and staring at Brin. This was awful, now she really had to hold it together. Kate then sat down on the same log as the kid, "Don't worry, none of them bite. Well, Nea is a bit snippy, but she'll come around." The blonde reassured. Oh boy, here we go.

Introductions meant questions, lots of questions. Sometimes, very personal questions, and while Brin had only really asked questions so far, answering them herself was not easy. _Ok, just, focus on who's talking, hopefully this stays simple._

"Who the hell are you?" A punk looking woman piped up sourly, her eyes were highly analytic... And judgmental. Nope, this wasn't gonna be easy. Then again, nothing ever was.

Kate nudged the girl with her elbow gently, "It's alright." 

Here goes nothing, "Uhm- H.. Hi. I'm Brinley, uh." Wow, could they even understand that? Hopefully, "Nice to meet you all." Is it? Because last time she checked, she was in hell. She'd been murdered, woken up in pain and now she had to greet a whole slew of hardened strangers? Not to mention the fact that she was _the youngest person there_. Brinley half smiled, half winced. Her expression was crooked. _I really really want to cry._

Surprisingly, they understood, "Hey, I'm Jake." A young man, probably in his early twenties spoke up in a friendly manner, "Sorry if this is a weird question, but how old are you?" Another man, no- more like guy. Black hair, same as Jake but cut much shorter. He seemed a bit nervous as well, which was comforting, "Fifteen." Brinley answered, just loud enough so that she wouldn't need to repeat herself in the future.

A wave of emotions hit the group in one wave, starting from the left and ending at the right. Jake's gaze fell, Meg, Steve and another girl traded glances. David rubbed his face tiredly, unsure of what to think. The nameless others all had their feelings about it as well, some were still processing. 

With a pointed look, Kate began the meet n' greet, starting with the nerdy guy on the far left, "Dwight, hello." He was sweet, waving meekly to Brin. Dwight was good, she was sure of this.

The punk woman went next, "Nea." She didn't greet, she simply informed with a flat tone. Nea was scary, and she felt outwardly cold. Best not to irritate her, not like Brinley wanted to irritate her.

An old man in camo cargo pants plucked the cigarette from between his teeth, he gave Nea a scolding look before fixing back on the girl, "Call me Bill." He spoke gruffly, but that didn't mean he wasn't nice. Bill seemed like the backup leader, the planner, if you will. He wasn't afraid, or- at least he was strong enough to stay brave.

Meg smiled, "I've already been introduced, but I'm gonna say hello anyway." The gesture was heartwarming. So much so that a small, tiny little smile pulled at Brinley's lips. The redhead was certainly energetic, as her leg bounced in place rapidly. Was she nervous? Or just not the sitting type?

A boy with a beanie scratched the back of his neck once it was his turn, "Hey, I'm Quentin." He spoke tiredly, yet there was content in his tone. He wasn't bothered by being tired, and he was definitely happy to not be in a Trial. He gave off the same vibe as Jake- The roughed up helper, like a brother almost.

 _Don't get attached. Why not? I just can't, not now._ The nervous chattering in Brin's head was quiet, though it was enough to shift her expression from the small smile to neutral again. Didn't she want to make friends? Whatever, figure this out later.

An African-american man sighed, looking a bit preoccupied with something else, "Tapp, hey kid." He sounded tired as well, a bit bored maybe.

 _What if I'm useless?_ What? why was she worrying about that now?

"Laurie." Another blonde woman spoke up, jarringly catching the kid off guard. Brin had spaced out for a second. She had her arms crossed tightly, like she was trying to make a force-field around herself. That was relatable. 

A man with a beard dipped his nose at Brinley, "Hi, kiddo. Name's Jeff." His hair was long and gray, pulled back from his face. He had a gnarly scar across his left eye, luckily it didn't impair any vision. Being blind in a place like this would suck. He had uncle vibes. He was cool.

David was next, he was leaning on a much larger rock - rather casually as well, "Ello, love." He greeted with a gesture of his hand. His accent was nice, he seemed like the fighter type. Burly, and tough. That was always helpful. _Not against knives._

Brinley suddenly remembered seeing him limp past her, the mental image was warped, making it much more disturbing than it actually was. Her blood ran cold, because was followed the memory was a sickeningly familiar voice.

 _"What's wrong, bitty?"_ It felt like he was talking into her ear, _"You're shakin' pretty bad, did something scare you?"_

_Keep it together, he's not here. Shut it out until you can cry. Just.. Wait it out._

The girl forced herself back into reality, shifting herself a bit in her seat. She really needed to stop zoning out when she needed to remember these people's names.

Steve said hello again, then it was the other girl's turn, "I'm Nancy, hey." She was mild, smiling kindly as she spoke. Steve and Nancy seemed close, which irked something in Brinley that she'd tried to shut away. Connection. She pulled her eyes away from the duo, not wanting to fall into the mental trap that was yearning.

The greetings began to blur together, Brinley hadn't ever met so many people at once. The sky grew darker, tiring her out with the darkness. The meet n' greet was far from over, because now with greetings out of the way, questions could begin. This was going to be tricky, Brin was tired, she didn't want to think. She wanted to cry and sleep, she wanted to give herself time to solidify in her mind that: yes, this is her reality now. She missed her parents, she wanted to go home. That's all she ever wanted, why was she taken?

"Hey, Brin. You still with us?" Jake asked through a little chuckle. He was holding a bowl, what was in the bowl? Kate had apparently gotten up to go get something, as now she had a bowl in her hands as well. She was offering it to Brin, which was unexpected. The offering was accepted nervously, inside the bowl was... Cinnamon oatmeal? It was pleasantly warm, resting on her knee. It smelled great as well, but how did they have food here? Stop asking questions, it's food, eat it.

The discomfort that came with eating in front of others was disregarded, everyone else had a bowl and everyone else was eating. To avoid the possibility of becoming self-conscious about eating, she scarfed down the sweet mush. David snorted in amusement, "Thought we didn't get hungry in here. You can put it away, can't ya?" 

Brinley had to stifle a laugh, "Sorry, I uhm... I like oatmeal." What kind of freak likes oatmeal. This freak apparently. 

David cackled, holding his stomach as he did, "I can tell."

Nea set her bowl down, making a sharp _ping_ echo off the forest around them, "So." She started, her tone clipped. She didn't finish though, her gaze fixated on the girl expectantly. What? What did she want from the kid?

The anxious shiver came back, Brinley was unaware it had even left. This left a shallow frown on her face, "So? Uhm, I... Don't know what you mean." She shrugged with one shoulder. _Please don't make me explain how I got here, because I can barely remember. It also hurts to think about, and I really don't want to start crying. Not again, and definitely not with an audience._

"So- What's the deal? You're here now, and you've got a reason to be. Spill." Nea grew impatient so fast, it gave Brin whiplash, "How. Did. You. Get here?" Sheesh, Nea was demanding. Jake flicked her shoulder, silently chastising her for being so harsh.

The woman who introduced herself as Jane chimed in, though much calmer than Nea, "Not everyone has a reason, but you are here now. Can you remember anything from before you were taken?"

Bits and pieces, shards of memory that cut like glass whenever Brinley thought of them, "I... I remember some of it. I was at a party, but got chased away by some _dumbass jocks_." The swear was highly unexpected, David looked impressed, "They ran me into the woods behind the party house, and then I saw the fog. It was everywhere, and I couldn't hear the music anymore. I just.. I just wanted to go _home_. I _was_ going home- or, trying at least." Her voice quivered, an emotional lump was audible as she spoke. _Don't cry. Cry later,_ "I took three steps in a random direction, and the fog went crazy. It took over everything, it hurt to breathe. It felt like burning smoke. Then I blacked out and woke up standing next to a barrel fire..... And a hook." 

_Don't mention what Jed- **No** , Ghostface said. **Stop** calling him Jed, he's not allowed to be on a first name basis. He isn't a person, he's a killer, so don't use his real name._

"Next to a hook?" Nancy echoed, worried was her tone, "Coming in next to a hook isn't all that great, normally we get dropped near gens." Steve commented, sharing Nancy's concern. So being put by a hook wasn't normal? Awesome. 

Nea crossed her arms with a sharp exhale from her nose, "Did you come in with a killer?" 

What did that even mean?

Brin fumbled with her hands, tapping the wooden bowl, "I don't know." She lamely said. The punk's glare only got colder, "That doesn't fly. It's been ages since our last pair, you had to come in with someone." She pressed on, the kid only grew more nervous, "I don't know, honestly. I don't have a single clue as to what's going on, I just wanted to go home." 

"So do we, you're not special."

" _Nea!_ " Kate intervened, frustrated that she was so hostile to the newcomer. The two glared at each other for many moments, only retracting when Bill got involved with his own pointed expression. Nea huffed, grabbing her bowl and storming off. Guilt, crushing guilt overcame Brinley. She murmured, her face was dejected and unsure. 

Kate sighed heavily, "Don't mind her, she's always a bit much with everyone. She'll come around, just give her time." The blonde put a hand on Brin's shoulder, "It's getting late, and you've still gotta claim your bunk." Bunk? What bunk? Brin blinked at Kate in confusion. She chuckled at the girl's confusion, "C'mon, I'll show you the shacks."

It occurred to Brin that she'd never faced south, one, good sized, longish building lay just barely within reach of the oddly wide glow of the fire. Inside it was shockingly clean, the bulk of the shack was dedicated to beds and very small, improvised bags and nightstands. Each bunk had been labeled with a name, the girl's eyes skimmed over some familiar ones. David, Jeff. Kate, Meg(of course, those two were obviously besties.) Nea. Jane. Steve, Quentin. Brinley quickly figured out that the first name in the pair had the top bunk. Kate and Brin made it near the end of the shack, Nancy was untying her hair on a lower bunk. No one was on the top, maybe it was clear?

Nancy made an _'oh'_ sort of sound, realizing what Kate was helping Brin with, "Top bed's empty, it's all yours." She offered chipperly, gesturing to the bunk overhead. Each bed had a privacy curtain, if it was the top bunk, then the rail was screwed into the ceiling. That was actually pretty nice. _If I can mute my crying enough, then the curtain will prevent the world from seeing me!_ The thought was wrongly relieved. 

Despite the thoughts whirling around in her head, Brinley accepted with a happy hum. Oh god did it feel good to lay down. Her bones rejoiced, every joint relaxed. She felt like she could finally breathe. A drug out _'aaahh'_ escaped Brin's mouth, but she didn't care. She didn't understand how tired she was until she'd hit the creaky mattress. No complaints, not now anyway. The blanket on her bunk was folded nicely, wedged in the corner of the little railing that prevented them from falling off. The girl yanked up the folded blanket. This was much better.

A marker popped up into view, "Write your name on your bunk, quick! Steve always tries to sneak into this one, so if it's claimed then he can't." Nancy said in a loud whisper. Brin hung her head over the edge of the bunk, grinning meekly and taking the marker. She managed to make her label somewhat readable, "Boom, no more sneaky Steve."

Nancy covered her mouth as she busted out laughing, Brin felt proud of herself for making her laugh, giggling a bit herself. Once Nancy collected herself, she nodded with a giddy smile, "No more sneaky Steve." 

The two girls got to chatting, Nancy was glad that Brinley was coming out of her shell. Brinley enjoyed the playful gossip from Nanc, snickering and giggling after every anecdote. Eventually, the older girl handed Brinley a single wrap of medical gauze, "Take it. Trials suck ass, but you don't need to stay hobbling around. You can win, it just takes time." Her words were inspiring, they warmed the cold worry in Brin's heart. She gently grabbed the bandages, kindly replying, "Thanks." 

Maybe she didn't need to cry tonight after all. Maybe this was survivable.

Hope isn't allowed. The nightmares came.

Oh god, the nightmares came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is sweet, huh? I tried to wiggle as many canon survivors in here as possible to kick start friendship building. Hopefully it works, also Nea is an ass. She'll be fine, give her time. This was bulky, mainly because I had to skim certain wiki pages of survivors I'm not familiar with. I've got my own headcanons for all of them, but only a handful are fleshed out enough for me to write, so don't expect every survivor to pop up consistently. //shrugs// You can tell who I like most here as well, which is kinda funny. That's all for now, till next time, catch ya in the fog~ Reggie.(Still editing this part lolol)


	3. A New day.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare and aftermath of said nightmare, learning the ropes and friendship. Ends with dread.

Staring into the campfire didn't help erase the nightmare from Brinley's mind. The gentle crackle, the constant dance of the flames, nothing worked.

There were a few reasons as to why this horrid dream messed her up so bad. One: Brin never got nightmares, and two: Every single sense was overloaded.

The coldness of it made the fire useless.

She'd woken up in a void, floating as if in water. She could still breathe, thank god, but there was nothing to see. It wasn't dark, per se, just... Empty. She tried to swim up, or down, maybe right? No, left. She felt like no progress was being made.

A demented, fucked up air raid siren ebbed in, so slow she barely noticed it until the sound circled her ears. Sirens like that always felt like cheese graters on her spine, disturbing and panic educing. Covering her ears didn't work to dull the noise- it only got louder, actually. She thought she was being chased by the noise, so once again she attempted to swim away. She failed.

Then a whiteish hand pressed itself against her back, between her shoulder blades. Oh god, the _touch_. It didn't hurt, it made her head turn to fuzz. The feeling of this hand on her back tore her brain in half. It was such a gentle touch, like someone trying to comfort her, but it was so _intense_. The hand didn't appear to be attached to anything, it simply faded into physicality.

The air raid siren mixed with the fuzzy, loopy feeling did not mix well. It was a bad trip. She was still panicked, yet not at the same time. She knew the siren was wrong somehow, though understanding it now was impossible.

What added to that was the strangely bitter taste of blood. Rotting, slimy, gooey blood. It was warm in some places and cold in others. It had chunks of squishy fat or flesh. She couldn't remove any of it, if it ran down her throat it would just refill itself. To prevent the utterly awful substance from getting to her stomach to do who knew what, she spat it out. Well, more like desperately choked and gagged until it flowed out of her mouth. It was never ending slop.

More hands appeared, all of them... _Touching_. All of them added to the fuzzy high that stuck to each atom of her mind. It made her feel emotional. Some of the hands had arms, wrapped around her shoulders or waist. Two hands held her face, one had started patting her hair.

God, _stop_ it. Let go, just get _off_. She didn't want to be touched, but it felt so painfully nice. Too nice, but still it didn't override the disgust she felt at the blood in her mouth. 

Now, all at the same time, she was afraid, repulsed and comforted. 

Brinley choked out a sob, she tried so hard to ask the hands to go away. Nothing remotely close to speech left her lungs. One hand wiped away any tears that fell down her face. She raised her own hands up, wrapping around the wrists of the ones that held her face.

She couldn't bring herself to pull them away.

Like a light switch being flicked, the pitch black void turned into strobe lights. Every color under the sun flashed in her face, spazzy lines violently zig-zagged across her vision. 

When Brin tried to close her eyes, two hands held them open... Somehow. All she understood was that she couldn't close her eyes. It felt like she was staring into the sun.

Confusion was added to the mix. This felt like it dragged on for hours. She'd tossed in her own weak screams to the party. 

When the height of overload was achieved, everything changed.

The air raid siren became inhuman shrieking, the blood turned to acid. The hands grew razor sharp claws, becoming rougher and hostile. The neon rainbow strobe light turned to monochromatic red images. Faces. Brutalized, butchered images of what had to be people.

The other survivors.

All of them were turned to something demonic. Crooked teeth, eyes stitched into their skin. No skin at all. Brinley couldn't close her eyes. The images were unfathomable, so twisted by her faulty memory that they were barely human.

As if they were waiting, the hands tore her apart. The pair holding her face darted down to crush her neck, the one patting her began to rip out her hair. All of them made her feel nothing but pain. Of course she screamed, harmonizing with the other voice that rung out in her ears.

Funnily enough, Brin only woke up with a startled gasp and a few tears.

Now she was here. Sitting in front of the fire, having remembered everything. Over time, a headache set in. Dull, throbbing, everywhere. The worst kind. This night just sucked, didn't it? All she could do was wait it out, because she wasn't about to wake someone up to ask if they had Advil in hell.

She hadn't even taken her blanket with her, not wanting to ruin it with dirt and leaves. Even now she was worried more about something else. The others had taken their blankets outside, so why didn't she? The lack of answered made the headache worse. Barely a day into this and she'd already begun to lose her mind. All she'd felt was pain. So soon was she sick of the pain. She wasn't ready for this to become the norm. 

Soft footsteps drew close, causing Brin to snap her head in the direction of the steps with a deep wince. Ow, not such a good idea. It was just Nancy, with a blanked draped over one arm. She gave a small wave, "Hey, I heard you get up an hour ago. You alright?" She asked, soft and considerate. She looked worried. 

Brinley scoffed with a sigh, "It's nothing, just a nightmare." She answered, her tone betraying her feeble attempt at hiding her discomfort. Nancy saw right through it of course, stepping over the log to sit down next to the kid, "The nightmares go away. There's only so many ways your brain can fuck with itself." She remarked, draping the blanket over Brin's shoulders.

She was surprised, "Wait- Nancy, this is yours, isn't it? You don't gotta... I'll be fine." Brin said, reluctantly leaning away so she could refuse the gesture. Nancy rolled her eyes, "I can just steal Steve's, don't sweat it." She said, her hand lingered on the other girl's shoulder for a moment. This time the touch was accepted. Just the right level of comfort, not this numbing fuzz that the nightmare made her feel, "Are you ok?"

Damn it with that question. No, she wasn't ok. She was scared out of her mind, her mind hurt like a fucker, the nightmare didn't help. The one thing that she remembered the strongest was all the damn touching. So many hands, hugging and holding and touching all at once. Not to mention the cloud nine fuzz. It turned her brain into a velvet pom-pom. She couldn't remember what good touch like that felt like, so maybe that's why it was so messed up. Then it betrayed her by tearing her up. Oh, and how could she forget the faces? Nancy was one of those faces.

No. She really wasn't ok.

Brinley frowned, focusing on keeping the tears that threatened to fall at bay. When Nancy put her hand back on her shoulder though, everything crumbled, "I- I'm sorry... I just." The blurted sob shook, the girl doubled over, covering her face, "I'm so scared, and... _God_ , everything hurts. It hurts so bad.... I-" Another muted cry cut off the incoherent vent, "I don't wanna die again.. I can't do it. I miss my mom.... And my dad, and I just wanna go home." Brin sobbed harder after mentioning her parents. She loved her parents, even if she never showed it to them. That was her biggest regret: Never hugging her parents. She needed nothing more than her mother's embrace. She couldn't remember it. More tears.

Her body shook as she cried, tensing and twitching when she struggled to breathe. Nancy couldn't sit there and do nothing, it hurt her to see someone so young be broken by this place. The older girl wrapped her arms around the younger, pulling her close so she could mourn the past unalone. The hug was much needed, it grounded Brin, steadied her enough to slow down her breathing.

"We're not gonna let you die, and I sure as hell won't let you go in with nothing." Nancy said after a moment of silence, "It's probably insane to say this, but... It gets better. Minimally, but it does." God she hoped so. Maybe it would get better, maybe today would be alright. The walls were down, time to change the way she thrived.

* * *

It took awhile of talking, but Nancy had gotten Brinley to sleep again, and in her own bunk as well. No more nightmares ravaged her mind, now just the nothingness of shallow sleep. Shallow sleep normally sucked, but hey, it was something. Nancy was the one to wake her up.

Brin rubbed her eyes with a frown, then groaned as she hoisted herself up. The lack of sun and birds was off-putting, and it hurt a bit. She hopped down from her bunk, greeting Nanc with a tired smile. Steve strolled up to the pair, glancing at the top bunk that had been claimed. He made a flat faced look to Brin, then ruffled her hair, "You stole my bunk." He remarked with a chuckle.

The kid snickered, "No more sneaky Steve." She echoed her joke from last night, making Nancy laugh, "Yup, you can't creep up there anymore." She agreed, poking his nose with a hum. Steve rolled his eyes, "Yeah, whatever." He smiled at the two, waving them along, "C'mon, she's got stuff to learn."

Nancy and Brin caught up with Steve and Quentin, "Hey kid, sleep well?" He asked, still looking tired. No, she didn't, "Meh, it was fine." Brin responded with a shrug. Quen fixed his beanie, "That's good." He commented casually.

Everyone was up around the campfire, the boundary of the light wasn't as harsh now, and you could just barely make out the trees past the warm light of the fire. Kate, Dwight and Jake met up with Brinley once Nancy split away to sit with Steve, "We're gonna give you the rundown on Generators, c'mon." Kate said, holding out her hand with a smile. Yikes, more touch, but this was manageable. Brin hated her ever-changing position on touching, was it good? Was it bad? Sometimes she couldn't decide. Despite this, she accepted, taking Kate's hand and being pulled up to her feet.

They lead her over to a large dirt patch, Jake pulled out a few pieces of paper from a tattered folder. Sketches of a generator were draw, a bunch of notes and arrows pointed to different things. It was a bit much to comprehend. With a quick huff, Dwight knelt down across from the girl, "Alright, first things first. Do you know anything at all about engineering in general?" He winced as he asked, feeling dumb for asking a freshman in highschool something like that.

Brinley blinked at him for a second, "Uhm, no. Sorry." She apologized, feeling guilty for not having prepared for her untimely demonic kidnapping. This was gonna be hard, was there anything else she could do? Be bait? No wait, that meant more dying. Nope. Not up for that.

Dwight nodded once, "Right, ok. Each gen is easy to fix, it just takes time. It's a series of puzzles- for lack of a better word. It's still just a bunch of bolts and wires, but there's a method to it." He started, taking a pocket knife that Jake handed him. Wait, knife? They had a knife? "Holy crap, we have weapons?" Brinley blurted the question, slightly bewildered. She didn't have the best relationship with knives.

"We can't use weapons, only improvised tools. Laurie was the only one who had the ability to stun Killers, so she helped us learn as well. You could learn it." Jake explained with a sigh, shaking his head. Dwight drew a crude image of a generator in the dirt as best he could, "It takes about thirty seconds to fix a generator on your own, it gets gradually harder with each check."

"Check?" The kid echoed with a tilt of her head.

Dwight scratched his head, "Yeah, sometimes you gotta act fast so you don't damage the gen and lose progress. Don't worry if you mess up the first handful of times, you won't be alone. Just walk away slowly and let us handle it if you're struggling." He was so understanding of the fact that Brin was the youngest and most inexperienced. She felt a bit better about trials- but guilty about not knowing how to help. She didn't want to be useless, "Is there anything else I can do if I'm not working on a generator?" 

The question prompted Dwight to draw something else in the dirt. A clump of skulls held up by sticks. Jake took to explaining this time, "You could always be on the lookout for totems like these. There's always a bunch of them scattered around Trials, but only one is important. The hex totem. It normally has candles lit underneath." Dwight poked in some candles below the skulls, "Killers tend to care less about the totems. Be warned that once you do destroy the hex, you'll be exposed for thirty seconds, sometimes the killers get pissed about that." 

Yeesh, was being useful really worth it? _Yes, I need to help them. I'm a survivor now, not a victim._ Well, that was optimistic. She had no idea where the thought came from, but it felt good, "I'll try to focus on those, then. What do they do anyway?" Brinley said and asked at the same time.

"The Hexes give killers abilities." A voice from behind. Quentin, strolling up to kneel beside Brinley, "It's always good to have a Hexer on a team, it's pretty hard to find the lit totems." Well that was encouraging, "You'll do great." He added, quirking a smile. Better, that felt better. 

A _Hexer_ , huh? Cool title. She hadn't earned it though, so it didn't fit. Kate smiled at the boys, then nodded at Jake to continue, "If you ever hear a heartbeat, that means the killer is close. There's really only two things you can do, hide or keep moving. Try to avoid running, though. Something about running gives us away." Dope, the one thing Brinley was good at was a death sentence. This really was hell.

Dwight reluctantly drew a hook to add to the figures, "Then.... There's the hooks." He stated warily, pausing for a second to gather his thoughts, "The hooks are where we get sacrificed. It's one of only two ways we can die in Trials. We don't know why its a meat hook and not an alter, but its just how it works." Brinley remembered the hook she'd seen. It did not look pleasant. 

Quentin held out his hand to ask for the knife, Dwight passed it over casually, "You've got twenty seconds for someone to come get you off, once you've been hooked. Don't struggle if you're stuck, it only makes the time tick down faster and there's barely any chance of getting off." Quen advised with a glance to the girl, "They'll go right through your shoulder blade, and they hurt like a motherfucker, but we always try to get people off if we can." He was only trying to prepare her for the worst.

Kate sighed, "Being sacrificed... Nothing we could say can prepare you for what it's like. All I ask is that you hold on to every sliver of hope you have..." The blonde sounded so grim, this clearly was the worst way to go, "Sometimes- rarely, new survivors don't come back after being hooked. We don't know where they go afterwards."

"Nowhere good." Quentin grumbled. Had there been new survivors before? People truly lost this game? Brin fumbled with her hands, "How many people haven't come back?" She asked, dreading the answer.

With a sharp exhale out of her nose, Kate leaned back, "We've only seen two get taken. They both.... Didn't stand a chance. One was an elderly woman, seventy three. She was fit for her age, but something as horrid as sacrifice broke her even before she was taken. She was Christian, which made it worse I think." 

Wow, an old lady? So there really was no limit on who could be taken, as long as they served to entertain the Entity. To think someone so sweet was torn to bits by... Whatever the Entity looked like, it shook Brin to the bone.

"The other was a guy, seventeen. He was the youngest until you. We thought that eighteen was the cut off point, but we were clearly wrong." Kate collected herself, continuing with the explanation, "He was skin and bones, meth addict. We really tried to help him, but... He was mostly gone already." Wow, a senior in highschool addicted to meth? Damn, where did he come from?

Quentin rubbed his face, putting on a small smile, "Doesn't do us any good to think about that now. Enough about Trials, too, let's show her around." He said, patting Brinley on the shoulder. Jake and Dwight traded perplexed glances, then got up. Kate was called away by Nea, Dwight had to work on something else, so it left Jake and Quentin to show her around.

The first place they took her to was the waterfront. A trail of olive green flag tape marked the path, making Brin feel much better about exploring on her own at some point. 

Jake sighed in relief, "Welcome to the Waterfront, kid." He said, spreading out his arms to gesture to the small clearing in the forest. It was like someone took a bite out of the forest and nothing else, which was nice. The shore was made up of this weird, muddy sand. It got between her fingernails in a very uncomfortable way. She liked the sound of the tiny waves lapping at the ground. A rock, jetted up from the ground, making a perfect place to sit and relax. 

Brin smiled, "This place is pretty.... Pretty." She remarked, looking out to the water. It went on forever.

_What if you could swim back home._

Quentin recognized the look on her face, "We tied a bottle to a fifty foot rope once, casting it out to float somewhere." He said, tossing a stone to skip it gracefully across the surface of the water, "After five minutes it was dragged away by something, probably the Entity itself. I'm sorry, kid, there's nothin' out there for us." He hated having to squash that little bit of hope, only doing so because it was dangerous to think the waterfront was completely safe.

It was dangerous to think anywhere other than the camp was 100% safe.

The girl sighed, "Still, even if it is insanely deadly, it's pretty." She shrugged off the sadness, making Quentin smile. Brinley quickly found a small twig, poking it into the dirt before she looked up to Jake, "What else is around here?"

The trio left for the creek next, the sound of shallow, rushing water stabbed Brin in the heart with a spear labeled _childhood_. Damn, she'd be spending a lot of time here. Crying, thinking, chatting with Nancy or Kate. This place was good.

They didn't do much talking here, nothing needed to be said. The sound of the creek explained enough. This was a calm place. They stayed for what felt like twenty minutes, eventually moving on to the orchard. 

Brinley hadn't realized how dull this realm was until she got to the orchard. Tons of flowers and berries, but noticeably desaturated. Some wild cherries weren't as bright as they should have been. Still, it was one of the brightest colors she'd seen so far, other than blood, but blood didn't count. There were lots of different flowers, too many to count. Why where there so many calm places?

Nothing else really notable happened, until Jake took them to the edge of survivor territory. The forest ended abruptly, cut off in a line. A line of field was the thing that cut the forest short, maybe a quarter of a mile long. The grass was unkempt here, no flowers in sight. On the other side of the field was another forest, but shrouded in pitch black fog, "We never come here, we only show it to newcomers because if you get too close it calls to you." Jake said, tone grim.

Calls to you? Brinley didn't understand, "What do you mean?" She asked, feeling unsure about the rift between territories. She hadn't felt anything calling to her, maybe she was too distracted with everything else.

"Sometimes newbies walk off on their own, they get lost. This place, the fog, it's like a magnet. If we let you wander out to explore by yourself, it would have done the same thing to you." Jake crossed his arms, leaning on a tree, "We know next to nothing about what's on the other side. The meth kid was the only one we knew who crossed the fog. He said it was just more forest, but darker. He got chased out by Trapper, so we think he acts like a gatekeeper to prevent Survivors from crossing over."

This world really didn't make any sense. It was so inconsistent, "Can killers leave their side?" Brin asked a risky question, fiddling with her hands. She didn't really wanna know, but she had to. If she saw any of them outside a Trial she'd probably drop dead on the spot, a killer wouldn't need to do anything.

Jake and Quentin traded tense glances, then Qeun sighed, "Yeah, they can." 

A feeling of urgency slammed the trio like a wall falling on them, "C'mon. Trial time." Jake said, carefully taking hold of Brinley's wrist, leading her back to camp.

No. please god no.

Nancy was pacing in a tight circle, only stopping when she saw Jake, Quentin and Brin return, "You're the fourth?" Quen asked. Nancy only nodded in return, more focused on Brinley. The expression on her face was pale and strangely under-reactive, she only looked worried.

"Hey, don't worry. You'll get outta this one, I promise." She said, putting a hand on the younger girl's shoulder. Nancy held out the bandage that she'd given to Brinley last night, "I got this for you as soon as I felt the call."

Brin took it without so much as a hum.

_I don't wanna die._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw look at this! Character building, bonding, found family type stuff! Nancy and Steve are fun to write, Quentin is a good brother, so is Jake. The survivors would never admit it, but they all like having someone they all can truly teach. Nea is still a fucker tho. Don't get comfy, cause we got a grand introduction coming up >:3c 
> 
> Taking a moment to describe the way Brinley views touch- Different people touch in different ways, and different people feel different to everyone. Nancy's touch, for example, is highly protective and reassuring, comforting. This isn't to say someone else can't be comforting, it's like a wavelength, a magnitude. The level of comfort grows depending on how much bigger or smaller you are compared to Brin. Nancy isn't all that taller than her, so while her hugs are great, a hug from someone like Steve or Kate would do much more. She doesn't compare touch either way, she's starved of it, so telling the difference can be hard- especially when she's all emotional and in pain. Also, sometimes touching is alot more overwhelming, which is why confusion comes up alot on the subject.  
> Anywhooo, that's it for now, catch ya in the fog ~ Reggie.


	4. A Skull Tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter- The Legion: Frank.

Brinley opened her eyes, she didn't remember closing them. She saw snow.

Wait, snow? This was weird. How was there snow in this constantly lukewarm realm?

_**Mount Ormond resort.** _

Right, there was the mental title card she needed.

She pulled her head up, the arena(the map?) looked like a run down ski lodge. No, run down was an understatement, this place was decrepit and abandoned. Old equipment was laying buried in the snow. Some of the equipment had graffiti on it.

_Focus, I've gotta find a generator._

Right. Looking around for a moment, she didn't see any gens nearby, nor were there any hooks. A perfectly mild start. She sucked in a breath, choosing to walk left. 

The air was just barely cold, the snow on the ground didn't leak any frigidness at all. That wasn't surprising, really, nothing in this world made sense. Just like the first arena, random walls and corners were strewn about. She likened these arenas to paintball fields, which made this just a bit more bearable. 

Just one dangerous match of paintball... With knives, and generators... And no way to defend yourself or team. Yeah, just paintball. 

A generator popped into view once Brinley slipped around a corner. Wonderful! Now how the hell was she going to fix this? Sure, Dwight and Jake explained it, but talking is much different than doing. Relax, take it slow, they also said not to worry if she messed up. She was good at learning from her mistakes.

 _Not when someone kills me for screwing up._ Gee, thanks. 

Kneeling down next to the broken machine, she stuck her fingers in a gap and fiddled with some wires. The gen started chugging, two cylinders on either side whirred to life, sliding up and down as the gen powered up.

They didn't tell her this was a loud process. 

Everything in her gut told her to run, but she was fixated on being useful. _Go find totems, I can go find totems_. _That's gotta be quieter than this_. The thought wasn't lying. The totems were bones and sticks. Not a machine. No, totems were second to generators, gens helped them escape. Breaking hexes supposedly pissed the killers off, so lets not do that.

A rush of _'oh no, act fast'_ smacked Brin in the face, jerking her hand down to connect two wires together. Hey, that worked, was that a check? If it was, this was a bit easier than Jake and Dwight made it out to be. After a few more seconds of fiddling, along with the rush of two other checks, the lights attached to the pole flicked on with a rumble.

_Time to go._

She lowered herself to crouch away, doing so backwards just to watch the gen and make sure no killers were near. Her back hit a wall, sending a bolt of panic up her spine with a small gasp. An unfamiliar chuckle came from her left.

"Good job with the gen, tiny. Doin' it all on your own."

Brinley's head snapped to look at the source of this new voice. It was a... Dude. He had a flaming skull tattoo on his neck, which was honestly pretty cool. Piercing olive eyes that teetered on looking gold. Very short hair, noticeably ginger. He looked barely twenty, a scar nicked his right eyebrow in an oddly nice way. Aesthetically pleasing, matching with his punky vibe. He seemed relaxed, impressed maybe.

She'd never seen him before though, he definitely wasn't at the campfire meet n' greet. This made Brin nervous, "Uhm, hi? Who are you, I haven't seen you at camp." She asked, keeping quiet as to not attract the killer. The mystery dude just snickered, "Yeah, I'm like a black sheep. I hang out in the woods for days." He used his pinkie to scratch his ear, "Also, 'sup. What's your name, tiny?" He greeted a bit late.

Tiny. She'd never been called tiny before, it was... Nice? No, she didn't like being reminded that, yes, she was tiny- but, it sounded endearing, so maybe he didn't mean it in a bad way, "Brinley, you?"

His face shifted to stern, holding his hand, signaling Brin to be quiet. He suddenly grabbed her hand, "Something's coming, c'mon." He urged, dragging her away to hide behind another stray wall. They passed a huge watch tower, Brinley was shocked she'd missed it when she woke up in the arena. He sighed, tugging her so that she was between him and the other wall that created the corner. The nameless dude leaned past the wood to check for something, quickly pulling himself back with a sigh, "I think we're clear." 

He spoke with a smirk. He didn't seem afraid at all. Brinley narrowed her eyes at him, something wasn't right, "What's your name?" Brinley repeated her question, much slower this time so he couldn't dodge it again. She wasn't dumb, especially in Trials where everything could kill her. She just had this gut feeling that something was off. If he was a survivor, that means there's five against one. One of the others said there's only four survivors in a Trial.

 _Boom_. A generator blew up in someone's face, jerking her head so that she could face the noise. She frowned, hopefully they didn't loose too much progress.

**Thunk, chime.**

_Hah, good job, guys._ Brinley thought proudly for her teammates. That meant two down, three to go.

 **Thunk, chime.** Two left. This was going well.

"Damn, I'm wastin' my time, huh tiny?" His voice got a bit deeper, shady with an audible grin. His breathing sounded... Muffled? _Wait_ -

Throwing her body back around to face him, blue eyes filled with fear stared at a mask. Barely a foot away from her own face, Brinley choked on a harsh gasp. Her legs kicked at the ground as she pressed herself flush with the wall, the shiver returned, a heartbeat pounded like church bells in her ear and a weird red light shined in her face from seemingly nowhere. 

The killer laughed, grabbing her jaw to keep her in place, "The name's Frank, by the way." He said, cocking his head to the side. The killer- Frank, leered at Brinley through the mask, she could feel his gaze cutting into her soul. It hurt, mentally. The knowledge of imminent death tasted ironically of blood. Or as close to blood as Brin could remember.

Frank's grip on her only got tight, until Nancy skidded into sight, standing a meter behind him, "Brinley?!" She blurted in horror, medkit in hand. Frank sighed, shaking his head along with letting go of Brin, "Just a moment, don't go anywhere, alright, tiny?" He asked, holding a finger up to point at her.

Before she could answer, a deep, burning pain split up Brin's leg. She shrieked, mostly in shock, having not prepared for her leg to be hurt. _Fuck_ , it hurt really bad, more than it should have, and it bled like no tomorrow. Nancy gasped in response to Brin's cry of pain, looking on fearfully as Frank rose to his feet. Nancy darted away before he could catch her, bringing Frank with her. 

The snow on the ground was bright red with fresh blood, the pungent smell of iron was nauseating. Attempting to stand felt like snapping the bone in half, as if moving made the wound worse. She grit her teeth and whimpered, nails digging into the ground to find some sort of steadiness. White spots bubbled into her vision, time was running out. _Not again, please don't die again._

Panting and footsteps drew closer from the distance, a mildly bloodied Quentin slid into view, "Oh, thank god. Brinley? Hey, kid, you still with me?" He asked frantically, grabbing her shoulder to shake it. Brin groaned, "Quen... He-" Her words were cut off my tears, "He tricked me, the killer... I should have ran away." She hated herself for not trusting her gut.

With a worried look, Quentin knelt down in front of the girl, "Hey, hey. It's ok, that's what the Legion does, or at least just him. He did it to me too." He said, quickly brushing Brin's face off with his thump, "You did the first gen, right? You got it all on your own, you should've seen the look on Jake's face." Quen quirked a helpful smile, then dropped it for urgency, "C'mon, you gotta get up."

"No _no_ , stop it." Brinley wheezed as he tried to hook his arm around her. Any movement made the pain unbearable, the blood gushed harder from the gash each time. Quen growled, "Shit, right. Deep wound. How long have you been hurt?" He questioned, taking the bandage wrap that Brin offered, "A minute, maybe more... I don't know."

Quentin wrapped up the injury as best he could in a short amount of time, "We've gotta get moving, kid. I know it hurts, but you've got one gen to your name, now nothing can stop you." He said, snaking his arm around her again to pull her up. The wound hurt less, but still like a bitch. Brin winced, gritting her teeth as she leveled out her weight, "I hate this." She mumbled with a hint of acid in her tone.

Quen only chuckled, nudging her to follow. Of course, she did, closely in fact, so close she nearly tripped Quentin by trying to walk in the same space as him. Luckily, he found it funny, cracking a muted chuckle every now and then.

The duo got to another gen, two of the cylinders were already pumping. Good, very good.

Heartbeat, not good, very not good, "Hey! Didn't I tell you not to go anywhere?" Frank chided in an amused tone.

Thumping footsteps

Quentin falling down, screaming. So much screaming. Mori kill.

Brinley had blacked out for a second because of the fear and blinding adrenaline. When she blinked, snapping back to reality, Quentin was dead. Tears welled up in her eyes, falling as soon as they formed. Everything he'd said to her just minutes prior rung around in her head. She felt the weight of responsibility crushing her like a boot heel to the skull. 

Frank tilted his head, pressing his hands up to his face to make a mock-cry motion, "Aw, is the 'widdle baby scared? Are you scared, baby?" He asked the mocking question in and even more mocking tone. He strolled up to her so casually, reaching up to grab her throat before she realized she needed to run.

He laughed, holding his stomach as he found hilarity in Brin's situation, "Man, you _are_ tiny, aren't you? Don't worry, it's adorable. Annoyingly so." He remarked, lifting her higher. Brinley's feet no longer touched the ground, the lack of ground to stabilize herself made her legs flail. She floundered like a fish out of water, choking and wheezing for air. 

Serrated steel cut into her waist effortlessly, the heat of blood came before the pain. God, the _pain_ , it spiraled out like thorns, latching onto her bones. Brin screamed her throat raw, digging her fingers into Frank's sleeve. She tried to pull her legs up to kick his chest, but the knife was still embedded in her flesh. The pain only got worse when he adjusted his grip on the blade, "You ready, tiny?" 

"W- what...?" Brin choked out. White hot agony clouded her vision when Frank ripped the knife out in a downward angle, tearing her flesh even more. He lowered her to the ground, "Don't fall down on me, you've gotta run." He said, keeping hold of her neck until he was sure she'd recovered enough to stand on her own.

Barely, just barely could she stand on her own. She clutched her side, thick blood trickled through her fingers, soaking into her sleeve. She huffed, her face was pale, eyes bloodshot from crying and screaming. Something within her soul wouldn't let her fall down, though. Something primal and stubborn was strong enough to keep her chugging along through this nightmare.

Frank tapped the wet knife on his shoulder impatiently, "What are you doing? I said **run**." He barked the last word, stomping his foot down to emphasize the impact.

The hesitation in her turning to flee was because of the pain. Her mind spiraled as she ran, pain slurred the internal screaming.

_Where is Nancy, or Jake? Are they dead? Let me out. Please, someone save me._

Stopping for a just a second to catch her breath, the red medkit Nancy had lay on the ground- Covered in blood.

After what felt like minutes of struggling to hold on, an eerie humming, howling sound was barely audible. It sounded like the howling that Brin heart when she was taken, just much nicer, higher-pitched. She was drawn to the sound, searching for it like it was an escape.

Five meters away, she saw it. A hatch, darkness and fog leaked from it, rising up into the air instead of clinging to the ground. The howling was overridden by heartbeat. Oh no.

Franks arm hooked around Brinley's waist, spinning her in a 180 to throw her back and away from the hatch, "Where do you thing you're goin'?" He asked, snickering as she toppled to the ground.

Brinley was so exhausted. The loss of blood made her head cloudy and... Unthinking. She panted shallowly, staring out into the overcast sky above. There was barely any detail in the clouds to focus on, not like her eyes could focus anyway. Still, through all this, she couldn't bring herself to let go. Not out of fear of being perceived as weak, not out of spite, just too internally stubborn to die.

"Y'know, I'm kind of impressed you managed to heal up and run." Frank said with a half shrug, leaning on a wall lackadaisically to watch Brinley die.

The killer pushed off the wall, stepping over to kneel down above her, "Aww, baby, you look so tired." He cooed at her, "Don't let me stop you. Sleep, sleep off the bleeding. I'll kill ya when you're out, hows that sound?"

Truth be told, that sounded just fine. As long as she could fight a bit longer to stay awake, she'd be content to die in her sleep.

Frank leaned down a bit, "Tick tock, tiny. I'm not normally this patient with runners." His tone was irritable now. He twirled the knife in his hand, itching for that pent up bloodlust to be released. With a sigh, he used his free hand to brush Brinley's eyelids closed, "Jesus, you're pathetic. Just sleep, you won't feel a thing." 

Brinley's eyes stayed closed, the fight, the clinging to awareness slipped away into darkness, taking the pain with it.

He was right, she didn't feel a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank! He's at his least douchy right now actually, but trust me, he gets worse. Brin actually put him in a good mood, being tricked by the fake survivor trick and all. Mercy will never be granted ever again, at least, not from him. Also, he mori'ed her right after she passed out. Only two ways to go in a trial, and Frank tends to be selfish with murder. Poor Brin, two trials under her belt and each time she's died. At least she got a gen up this time, I'll give her a few wins, as a treat. One of her perks will come in handy soon~  
> Also, Brinley got VERY lucky only a few checks her gen. Also, the nicknames that pop up here will be reoccurring, lots. This is also shorter than I'd like it to be, I've still gotta work on beefing up my Trial chapters. Anyway, that's all for now, catch ya in the fog~ Reggie


End file.
